


Camped Out

by poor_dumb_killian



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poor_dumb_killian/pseuds/poor_dumb_killian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reluctant Emma goes camping with David, Mary Margaret and Killian (summaries are hard).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camped Out

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on Tumblr three months ago after a long writing dry spell. Im not sure why I never posted it here, but Im rectifying that mistake now!! (In other words: if this is familiar, you aren't crazy)
> 
> This was never beta'd, so any mistakes are mine.

Why she had let Mary Margaret - her no-longer-best-friend - talk her into this camping trip was beyond her. Emma Swan was not an outdoorsy kind of person, and the first 2 hours of their camping trip was proof of why.

She had proven herself unfit to set-up her tent, a borrowed one from her neighbor that looked like it hadn’t been used in at least a decade. Luckily Dave and his friend Killian Jones (who Mary Margaret did not mention was coming… convenient) came to her rescue before she broke the damned thing.

_“Woah, love, don’t force it or you’re liable to break it,” Killian had said in his annoyingly attractive accent._

_“Well, if it would just go through the damned sleeve,” she huffed as she tossed her hour of fruitless work on the ground before crossing her arms in irritation, “maybe I wouldn’t have to force it.”_

He had clicked his tongue and smiled cheekily at her before calling Dave over to help him; less than 5 minutes later her tent was standing, and her mood had soured further.

If that wasnt enough, Emma had decided to make herself useful by helping Mary Margaret with dinner. Which seemed like a great idea until half of it ended up in the ashes and coals of the fire.

_“How was I supposed to know the grate was so unstable?” she had all but whined to her one-time-best-friend after the pot had tipped off of the cooking grate._

_“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret chided in her all too motherly tone, “It’s OK, you know me. I brought plenty of extra.”_

At that point, Emma figured it was probably best to segregate herself from any possible mishaps. She sat down in her (very uncomfortable) camping chair and got to reading one of the many books she brought in preparation for utter boredom. She decided on “Let the Right One In” by John Ajvide Lindqvist, which was probably not the best book to bring when you planned to sleep outdoors with the noise of the wilderness around you; she severely underestimated the creepy factor.

About an hour into it, in a particularly intense part of the book, she was startled by a noise to her right. She nearly jumped out of her skin while she clutched at her heart and let the book fall to her feet.

“Sorry, love,” she looked to her right and a new camping chair in the hands of the obnoxiously attractive man who had a sheepish look on his face. “I didnt mean to give you a fright, I just thought Id come over and join in the reading corner.”

He held up a book and scratched the back of his right ear, a move she found incredibly adorable.

 _Wait… what?_ Emma Swan did not find men adorable. Nope, no way.

She took a moment to appreciate the man before her in his blue flannel over a grey henley. She had never seen eyes as blue as his, and was almost certain they couldn’t be real… He couldn’t be real; he was something out of a fairytale with his sharp jawline and almost black hair. He had that “I just woke up this way” attractiveness that was wholly unfair.

She realized she had been staring and not speaking for far too long when he shuffled on his feet and bent to grab her discarded book from the forest floor, “Ah - well - I guess Ill just leave you to it then.” The words had stumbled out in a way that seemed nothing like the cocky man she had been introduced to a couple hours prior.

“Wait,” she reached to stop him and grabbed his wrist. She felt the warmth of his skin peeking out from beneath the long sleeve of his flannel and quickly released him as if she had been burned. “I’m sorry,” she laughed at her awkwardness, “I’m reading a seriously creepy book and don’t think it’s really the best idea. I was actually just thinking of giving up on the reading for now.”

He smiled, and she was woefully unprepared for the deep dimples on his cheeks. He tossed his book in the chair to her right and offered his hand to her, “In that case, want to see the most beautiful sunset in your entire life?”

She hesitated, because sunset watching was romantic and something Mary Margaret and Dave would do, but realized without her book she really didn’t have much else to do. So, she shrugged and ignored his offered hand to stand under her own power, “Sure, not like I have anything better to do.”

His smile stretched even further across his face. The creases around his eyes deepened as he chuckled lowly, “You’re a tough lass, aren’t you?”

She just shrugged again and ignored the butterflies that fluttered around in her gut as she threw her book in her chair and followed behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

“How do you know this path?” she broke the silence five minutes after they left camp.

“I came here with Dave and his family quite a few times when we were in high school,” he answered simply.

“Dave and Mary Margaret neglected to tell me you were coming with us, but I’m pretty sure I’ve heard about you from him. You were in a foreign exchange program, right?”

“Aye, I changed places with the Nolan’s neighbors for six months. Dave and I became fast friends back then and have kept in touch.”

“Do you still live in England?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?” he stopped and turned around to her with an eyebrow raised high.

“Yes, as a matter-of-fact, I do,” she crossed her arms in defiance, “You don’t have to answer.”

She pushed past him on the trail, only getting a few steps before she heard his hurried ones behind her.

“No, I moved from England to Boston two years ago. Decided last month maybe a small town life would suit me better,” he shrugged and scratched his ear again (it was not cute. NOPE). “Moved to Storybrooke two weeks ago since Dave was here.”

“Who was she then?” Emma asked all smiles. She could tell a man who moved out of necessity when she saw one. Though she immediately wished she could take the question back. His face fell and a dark, brooding glaze filled his eyes.

She knew the conversation was over.

“Enough of the 20 questions, unless you want to tell me about your sordid past.”

She had no desire to fill him in on the sad, lonely life of a pathetic orphan. So she allowed the silence to fill the rest of their walk.

 

* * *

 

 

After what seemed like ages (but was more like 20 minutes) they pushed through the edge of the tree line and Emma found herself face-to-face with at least a thousand foot drop-off overlooking the East. There were miles of trees between the rim they stood on and the ocean, shimmering out in the distance.

She gasped audibly, she had never seen anything like this view in her life.

“The sun is still about ten minutes from setting,” he said, breaking her from her quiet moment.

“How are we getting back in the dark?” It’s embarrassing that she just now thought of this predicament, but he rummaged in his pockets and pulled out two headlamps. She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, “You aren’t expecting me to wear one of those ridiculous headbands are you?”

He chuckled and he placed the monstrosities back in his pocket, “You will if you don’t want a broken leg.”

She rolled her eyes, but silently conceded that looking ridiculous was better than a helicopter ride off the rim to Storybrooke hospital.

She moved to walk out on the rock jutting out over the edge, but was stopped by a hand on her wrist, “What are you doing, love?”

“Going to get a seat for the - and I quote -  _most beautiful sunset in my entire life_ ,” her mockery of his accent was horrible, but instead of laughing he just looked nervously at the rock she had stepped toward.

“That doesn’t seem all that safe, love, you can see the sunset while standing over here.”

She raised her eyebrows at him in challenge, “Afraid of a little height, Jones?”

“If by afraid you mean not interested in plummeting over a thousand feet to my death, then yes, Swan.”

She laughed and stepped out of his hold, backing towards the edge slowly, “Oh no, Jones, I may not make it.”

He looked so nervous and uncomfortable, she should’ve felt bad; but it was more adorable than anything.

She had to mentally scold herself for using that word again, while she turned around and walked right to the edge before sitting down and dangling her feet over.

She could feel his uneasiness and chuckled, “Look at that, I’m still alive.” She turned around to see him nervously shuffling his feet again, “You could join me, Jones. I’ve proven it safe.”

“Uh - no - I, uh - I’m good here, thanks.”

She chuckled again, “If you hate heights so much, why insist on watching the sunset from here.”

He smiled warmly, and she felt something ignite in her chest at the look he gave her, “You’ll see.”

A few minutes later, as the sun set on the ocean and the sky filled with yellow, orange, red and purple… she understood.

 

* * *

 

 

They had arrived safely back at camp just in time for dinner, but not before some ridiculous commentary about her headlamp.

_“See, Swan, it’s actually quite fetching on you,” he had said with a warm smile after adjusting the light carefully on her head._

_“Just shut it, Jones,” she mumbled, because there was no way she looked good with this ridiculous thing on her head. “I can’t believe I let Dave talk me into camping. Never again.”_

_“Never say never, love,” he chided in a singsong voice as he lead the way back to camp._

They ate dinner and right when Mary Margaret was about to pull out the marshmallows Killian disappeared to his truck. He returned as Emma’s first marshmallow ignited in the flames with a guitar in his hand, “Swan, that is not how you roast marshmallows. Are you a barbarian?”

She had already shoved the sticky mess into her mouth and spoke through a full mouth, “I like them burned, don’t judge me. You play the guitar?”

“Aye,” he said as he sat down in his chair, “Remind me to never ask you to roast a marshmallow for me if you behave as such a heathen.”

“There is nothing wrong with liking your food a little crispy around the edges,” she shot back defyingly, “Now, do you take requests?”

“There is something very wrong with that, love,” he said with a warm smile, “And yes, I do.”

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later and Emma found herself staring at the roof of her tent. Killian not only played the guitar, but had a beautiful singing voice that he used to serenade them around the fire while Dave made him s’mores; since he had deemed Emma unworthy of such a task.

She tried to get the memory of his smooth voice out of her head, but as she tossed and turned she realized it was impossible. He had sang everything from 80’s power ballads to 90’s alternative rock right down to Ed Sheeran’s Photograph - per Mary Margaret’s request - which is the one currently playing on repeat in her mind.

She heard the pitter-patter of rain hitting her tent not long later and was thankful; maybe the sound of mother nature could drown out the sound of his voice. She was about to doze off when she was jolted awake by something distinctly wet hitting her face. She bolted upright and wiped at the moisture on her forehead when she heard the drip of water hitting her pillow.

She quickly turned on her ridiculous head lamp and looked up at the ceiling in horror… the tent was leaking.

She saved her pillow from the downpour and hugged it close to her chest, thinking on her options.

She certainly couldn’t go to the Nolan’s tent. Though they tried to be quiet, there was no denying the noises she heard earlier and she had no desire to interrupt their evening.

She couldn’t go sleep in the truck, because Dave had locked it “just in case.” She briefly thought about checking to see if Killian’s truck was unlocked, but it was even further away than Dave’s and she was already looking at a soaking wet run with the risk of no reward should it be locked.

Killian’s tent was only ten feet away.

Sighing heavily, she wrapped her sleeping bag around herself, her backpack of belongings and her pillow - hoping to keep some of the wet away and salvage what she could - before unzipping her tent and making the mad dash for his.

He had a fancy tent, with a little awning protecting the door, so she rushed quickly and ducked under it’s protection before whispering, “Killian?? Jones, are you awake?”

She heard the rustling of fabric before the door unzipped and he blinked up at her with sleepy eyes and no freaking shirt…  _shit_.

“Swan? What are you doing here??” Then a devious smile lit up his face, “Unless it’s because you can no longer resist my charms.”

She scoffed and punched him lightly in the chest, “Shut up, Jones… My tent sprung a leak. And considering the noises earlier your tent seemed like the safest bet.”

He chuckled, “Aye, I noticed that too. Bloody teenagers. Come in then.”

Her sleeping bag had taken the brunt of the water, leaving her and the rest of her belongings mostly dry.

He noticed her shivering and moved immediately, “You must be cold, Swan. Here…” he started to dig through a box he had in the tent, “I always keep some extra blankets in my camping box.”

She snorted, “Of course you have a camping box.”

“It doesn’t hurt to be over prepared, love,” he booped her nose with the tip of his finger, “And it doesn’t do well to chastise a man willing to help you.”

Her smile was genuine and warm, completely unlike the smiles she started this trip with, as he replaced her wet sleeping bag with a warm blanket that smelled like a mixture of wilderness and Killian Jones.

She sighed happily at the warmth, “Thanks, Jones. You’re my hero.”

 

* * *

 

 

It started out awkward, both pretending to be asleep when it was painfully obvious they were not. He suggested the game of twenty questions. For some reason, in the dark, she felt able to answer honestly.

_“So, Ed Sheeran?” she asked with an obvious grin in the dark._

_He sighed, “Yes, he is a particular favorite of Mary Margaret’s, so I know a few of his songs. Plus, it never hurt with the ladies.”_

She had laughed and mocked him further before things delved into more touchy subjects. She told him things only Mary Margaret and Dave knew: her childhood growing up unloved and unwanted, her first love and loss with Neal, her pessimism towards true love in general.

She also told him things she never admitted to anyone. The particularly painful stories of abusive foster parents and older boys in the homes. Things she could never bring herself to tell Mary Margaret for fear it would ruin her rosy outlook on the world.

He admitted to his lost love. He moved from England to escape her husband who had made it his life goal to ruin Killian’s life, even though he never even knew she was married. How he left Boston because he was on a destructive path of booze and meaningless hook-ups. It took a trip from Dave and a stern talking to by his brother to knock some sense into him and convince him to make the move to Storybrooke.

Somehow in the night, Emma ended up curled up next to him with her head pillowed on his chest. She awoke to a still dark tent, the sound of his heartbeat in her ear and the warmth of his arm around her, holding her tightly to him. She tensed and moved to leave, but his arm tightened further.

“S’early,” he said in an even thicker accent than normal, “Go back to sleep, love.”

She wanted to fight, to be stubborn and get up. But she was warm and he was comfortable. She told herself there was nothing wrong with giving in for just one more hour.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time her eyes opened she was still in the same position, the only difference being the morning light shining on their tent and the sound of chirping birds announcing the arrival of dawn.

She grumbled as she pulled the blanket over her head. She heard a low chuckle emit from her pillow.

“Not much for morning, are we?” he asked with the deliciously thick accent of just waking.

She grumbled a little more before resolving herself to getting up, “Any chance you think we beat them up so I don’t have to explain our sleeping arrangement?”

He stretched as she sat up away from him, eliciting a jaw-cracking yawn before smiling sleepily, “Not a chance, love. I already heard Dave out there wondering why your tent was flooded.”

“Ugh, well at least it should be pretty self-explanatory,” she started to look around the tent for her backpack before it appeared before her eyes.

“I tucked it out of the way, love. I promise I didn’t go through your intimates in the middle of the night,” he winked, “The headlamp would’ve risked waking you anyways.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes, “You’re incorrigible.”

“I prefer dashing, but Ill take what I can get,” he shrugged as he sifted through his own bag for a shirt.

She started to collect her things to take out of the tent when he stopped her movements with his hand rested over hers, “You know, it’s just going to rain again tonight. There is really no point in removing your stuff from the tent.”

“I could just sleep in the truck tonight,” she said as a (weak) argument… ultimately knowing he had an excellent point.

“You’ve already used me as a pillow, love,” he smiled cheekily at her, “What does one more night hurt?”

“Ugh, fine… you are the worst,” she whined like a child.

“Is that really how you say thank you to your pillow?”

She laughed and playfully shoved him one more time before collecting her clothes for the day and leaving to go find a bathroom.

As soon as she unzipped the tent, she wished she could close it and stay in their little sanctuary forever. Dave sat at the fire, a cup of what she assumed was coffee ( _please let it be coffee_ , she thought) in his hands and a huge grin on his face.

“Did you have a good night?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes as she struggled to stand on her still sleepy legs. “Other than my tent springing a leak and having to dash through the downpour to a dry place?? Sure, an excellent night,” she said, dripping with sarcasm.

Killian picked that moment to pop out of the tent, “Oh, I dont know. I thought it was a rather lovely night, Swan.”

She scoffed and mumbled, “See?? Incorrigible,” under her breathe as she made her way to the campground bathrooms.

She returned a few minutes later with an empty bladder and a fresh set of clothes. Mary Margaret was sitting alone at the fire, working on breakfast. She handed Emma a cup of coffee as she sat in her chair.

“I would offer to help, but you know… the dinner fiasco,” Emma said.

Mary Margaret smiled knowingly at her, “Yea, it’s probably best you leave the cooking to me.”

She could tell her best friend was trying to hold in what is sure to be a litany of comments, so she tried to deflect, “Where are the guys?”

“Oh, something about needing more firewood,” she said before taking a sip of her coffee and biting her lip against saying more.

Emma sighed, “Just get it over with.”

“ _So_ … you and Killian?”

She took another long sip from her coffee while rolling her eyes, “Mary Margaret, my tent decided to leak all over me. You and Dave had obviously had a night I didn’t want to interrupt,” her friend’s face turned beet red while she continued, “that didn’t leave me many options.”

“He likes you,” Mary Margaret said with that smile that she usually paired along with true love.

“He’s alright, but stop looking at me like that,” Emma insisted.

“Looking at you like what?” her friend asked with feigned innocence.

“Like he’s my true love. He’s Dave’s friend… that you didnt even tell me was coming, by the way,” Mary Margaret at least looked a little sheepish at that, “who is incredibly attractive, yes… but he knows it. Besides, there’s no great love waiting for me out there. You know I’m better off alone.”

Mary Margaret tisked at her in her motherly way, “Killian is a good guy,” Emma scoffed audible over the crackling of the fire, “He  _is_  a good guy, Emma. He has a cocky vibrato, but I’m sure you’ve seen glimpses of the real him. He’s been screwed over a lot in his life too, you know.”

“I know,” Emma said without even realizing.

Mary Margaret’s eyes got wide, “What do you mean you know?”

Before Emma could respond she gasped loudly, “You guys talked last night, didnt you?? Spill… I want to know it all.”

“Mary Margaret we didn’t -” she was cut off by one look from her friend before sighing and giving in to the inevitable.

She didn’t tell her details, but admitted to playing 20 questions in the dark and getting to know him better. Mary Margaret basically squealed with delight before Emma scolded her, “Mary Margaret, you know how I feel about love. It’s just not going to happen.”

“Mmmhmmm,” she hummed, before putting down the cooking utensils and levelling Emma with a serious look. “Just, keep in mind Emma, those walls you put up to protect yourself, they also block out good things.”

“Are you saying Killian is one of those good things?” Emma asked. She wanted to sound skeptical, but she knew she wasn’t convincing.

Mary Margaret shrugged her shoulders before returning to breakfast, “I’m just saying, you won’t know if something is good, if you aren’t at least willing to try.”

Emma was saved from further lecture by the reappearance of the men. After dropping the newly gathered firewood, Dave bent and sweetly kissed Mary Margaret on the cheek, “Mmmm, smells good. What were you ladies talking about?”

Mary Margaret side-eyed her before saying, “Oh, nothing. You know, the usual. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

“Excellent, Lady Nolan, I am famished,” Killian said

Emma snorted and mumbled about him being ridiculous before Dave piped in, “Killian and I decided it would be fun to drive up the road to a spot to shoot some targets with the guns.”

“Now that is something that actually sounds fun,” Emma said with a wide smile.

 

* * *

 

 

They ate breakfast and loaded up Killian’s truck with the guns before heading up the road to a safe place for target practice. Mary Margaret had decided to stay at camp and read instead, but Emma was glad for something she was actually good at. Target shooting was a requirement to be deputy, as she and Dave were.

“So, Jones, ready to be embarrassed?” Emma had asked.

Dave laughed, “Emma may be a bit competitive.”

“And Dave is just saying that because he knows the embarrassment that’s coming his way,” Emma laughed.

Killian chuckled from the front seat, “Other than some shooting in high school, I’m afraid I’m rather a novice. So, yes Swan, I’m ready to be embarrassed.”

 

* * *

 

 

Embarrass them she did…

_“Alright, gentlemen, I’m going to need your man-card after that one,” she was all smiles after hitting bullseye on all six shots; Dave had hit 3, Killian had only hit one._

_“I’m afraid I dont have my man-card with me, love. Must’ve left it back in England,” his grin was wide and genuine as he tucked a loose curl back behind her ear. She bit her lip and watched as his eyes darted down to the movement before she felt the panic rise in her throat and she quickly deflected to go reload the gun for the next round._

They had arrived back at camp and enjoyed a lunch of sandwiches before the group left on a hike. Emma was 24 hours into her camping experience and was shocked to realize at some point in the madness she had started enjoying herself.

She refused to believe the dark-haired man currently hiking next to her had anything to do with it.

They returned to camp and each took turns in the solar shower to rinse the grime of the day off as Mary Margaret started dinner. Emma sat combing out her hair before she was startled by a voice in her right ear, “Want to go see the sunset again?”

She smiled, “It’s not nice to sneak up on people, Jones. I could’ve stabbed you with my hairbrush.”

“I’ve no doubt anything could be made lethal in your hands, Swan,” he licked his lower lip and she internally cursed herself as her eyes followed the path. “Though, I do apologize for the start.”

“Let me braid my hair and we can go,” she said it before she thought it through. Going to see the sunset with him was a bad idea. She could resist the romantic setting yesterday when she thought he was a cocky prick; but the last 24 hours have proven her wrong about a lot of things.

She was loathe to admit…  _she liked Killian Jones._

She plaited her hair and donned her hiking shoes once again before setting off in silence with Killian. She was lost in thought, internally freaking out over liking Jones.

She hadn’t liked anyone in years. Sure, she’s had one-nighters to scratch an itch, and they were all attractive enough men. But she had never allowed herself to be vulnerable with them. She hadn’t allowed herself to be vulnerable with anyone in a decade.

Killian must’ve sensed her internal monologue and left her to her vices. It grated on her nerves that he was already so good at reading her. Anyone that could figure her out so quickly also had a great power to destroy her.

There was no doubt if she was left again, she would be destroyed. She had never been enough before, why would she be enough now? Surely Killian would tire of her, then what? She wouldn’t be able to stitch back together her broken heart; she wouldn’t be able to rebuild her trusty walls with the same stability.

The walk seemed shorter today, but maybe it was in Emma’s head since she was hoping to delay the romantic view she knew awaited them at the end of the trail.

She was about to walk to the edge and sit down again when she felt the warmth of Killian’s hand close around her wrist. She felt his presence close behind her before he whispered in her ear, “I know something has been vexing you, Swan.”

She sighed, “How?”

“I’m sorry?”

She could hear the confusion in his voice, so she turned to face him, “How can you know something is bothering me? I’ve been told I’m hard to read, and yet you can read me so easily?”

He took another step closer to her, closing the remaining distance between their bodies. “You’re something of an open book, love,” he tucked a loose section of her bangs behind her ear and she felt a shiver run down her spine at the touch.

“I’ve been hurt so much, Killian,” she took a deep breath and looked up into his breathtaking blues, “I can’t survive it again. I can’t risk that I’m wrong about you.”

“All of those people from your childhood, they were bloody fools,” he picked up her braid and twirled the end around his long fingers before levelling her with a serious look, “I’ve been hurt too, Emma. I would never put you through that.”

She wanted to believe him, but her mind was replaying all the bad moments on repeat in her brain. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the images to leave her alone.

She hadn’t even known she was crying until she felt his thumb swipe the tear away. He cupped her cheek in his palm before saying, “I never thought I would be able to fall for someone again. But you’ve renewed my faith in the world, love.”

She was so tired of self-doubt and bitterness. She was tired of the loneliness her safety had brought her. But, most of all, she was tired of fighting against this pull between them.

She noticed the sky darkening around her and glanced to her right. The sun was setting and mother nature had once again brought out the paintbrush; this time it was an array of pinks and peach hues dancing across the sky.

“It’s so beautiful,” she gasped at the scene before her.

“Aye,” he said.

She looked up to him to see he had never moved his eyes from her, and she lightly slapped him on his chest and left her hand there, “That was corny, Jones.”

He smiled and cupped her hand in his against his chest before leaning in and nudging her nose with his.

“Aye,” he whispered.

She moved forward the last few inches and pressed her lips against his. Both of their hands found purchase in the others hair as the kiss deepened.

The sun was completely set by the time they pulled apart. They walked back to camp holding hands, with their dorky headlamps on to light the way.

 

* * *

 

 

_One Year Later_

“Come on Killian, I won’t let you fall,” she said with a big grin plastered on her face.

“You would not be able to stop my body weight from dropping a thousand feet with just your strength, love,” he huffed while standing a safe distance from the edge.

She smiled wickedly as she crawled up on her hands and knees, starting a slow crawl towards him, “You could always crawl to me.”

He laughed heartily and shook his head, “It doesn’t matter how hard you give me those sex-eyes, Swan, Im not setting on the ledge. Would you please come here, I want to kiss you.”

“Nope,” she popped the p and stuck out her tongue. “If you want to kiss me, you’ll just have to come here.”

“ _Bloody hell_ ,” she could hear from his tone that she had won, and she wiggled in victory, “You are a bloody pain in my arse, did you know that?”

“Yep, it’s why you love me,” she said with a grin.

She turned back to look at the sun, still a few minutes from setting. Next thing she knew, Killian crawled up to her and sat cross-legged on the edge beside her. She grinned triumphantly.

“Whatever you do, don’t look down Jones,” she said as she grabbed his collar and dragged his lips to hers.

They sat in silence as the sun set. The sky turned red and purple as Killian asked her to marry him.

She didn’t stop kissing him until well into the night.


End file.
